03/08/998 Ender's Run in search of..

Antonin Zivelda

The old man forced himself to offer an ingratiating smile to the minotaur. "Thank you, Mister Cromak. I think, on that note, I'll take my leave... and if I do indeed get a taste for something more suited to your supply, I'll certainly come to call."

Antonin tipped his hat. "Good day." And with that, he turned and strolled away, gesturing for the others to follow.


[Assuming no one else has anything to add? Rock on.]

* * * *

A safe block or so away, Antonin finally rammed his threadbare hat back onto his head and snorted in derision. "Miserable cow," he grumbled.

Such cockiness! At least the minotaurs in the Old Country knew how to keep their cud-loving tongues in check. There had to be something about the grass in Fairhaven that addled their brains and gave them thoughts unbecoming of their station in life.

"Well, now, Antonin is having trouble putting thoughts to words," he ventured as he straightened out the brim of his hat and looked to the others. "He had thought Kluh and Gregir were oafish drunks, skimming cigars from Sherpish's crates when old man was not looking. Hah! It seems Antonin was wrong."

With a wrinkled hand, Antonin reached into one of the pockets of his coat and drew forth a dented, rusty whiskey tin, whose cap he unscrewed and whose neck he set to his parched lips. Having tamed his thirsting gullet, he lowered it and nodded knowingly to his companions. "If there is being stranglehold on imports from Parlque, then it begs the question... where did these men get good supply of the cigars they are giving to sick cutpurse, one who takes Miss Toki's property? Such a delicious question."

He sighed and took another wistful drink from his tin. "Delicious," he murmured, totally lost in his own thoughts.

Ok you didn't ask where Sherpish lived or anything like that so where are you headed next.

Who needs to ask some minotaur? I'll ask a beggar or a drunk, and spend one whole shiny copper doing it. That's assuming we even want to track down Sherpish at this point. But whatever. Any of you other gentlemen want to chime in?

I don't know what you wish to do so here is the setting

As you move back off the dock the crew all continue to unload the vessel. Only the tattooed woman continues to watch your progress as you move away.

Grundun Gemcutter

Grundun's habit was to leave the jobs to the people best suited to them, and since Antonin was a local, the dwarf was happy to defer. Now that they were safely away, he spoke up again. "Hold up a moment. I thought the kid was actually POISONED by the cigar? Which means the two guys might have been trying to kill him, no? So it would be an easy thing for the 'evil mastermind,'" he said with his fingers making a symbol of quotation marks, "to either give the guys the cigar to give to the kid, or yes, perhaps the two guys are better connected that initially assumed."

"Either way," he concluded, repeating a theme he'd expressed previously, "if we're going to find them, shouldn't we find out where the dockworkers from their ship tend to hang out after work? I have to think a couple of them might know a thing or two about those two guys, and might even be in their cups right now. Which is convenient for gathering information. We should be discreet, of course, but that's the best starting point in my view."

Antonin Zivelda

Antonin lowered his drinking tin and shrugged helplessly. "Antonin is not knowing this. Boy was poisoned by Ktalla spores, yes? Maybe they are in cigars by design? Maybe put there. I am not to possess of ken to say. But I know smoking cigar gives boy eyes that see in dark. Antonin has smoked cigars good and bad, but none that are putting that kind of taste in my mouth." With a flourish, the old man put away his beverage and snapped his fingers. "But it is a big world! There are plenty of things to be drinking and smoking and loving and hating. Who is knowing what things are in store?"

His disarming smile, which had leapt to his face so quickly, disappeared even more swiftly, replaced with a frowning, weary scowl. "Maybe Kluh and Gregir are not so difficult to figure out. They are regulars at Kraken's Hole, bar near here. It is a krad-haut," grunted Antonin in his quizzical foreign tongue, though the emphasis on the strange word made it clear it wasn't a very polite term he used. "But I do not know if he is there now. He would probably be for sleeping after night shift at Sherpish's dock. Antonin will admit it may still be worth a peek."

Nearby, the dockworkers begin unloading an extremely large crate, using ropes and a pulley to lift it off the boat and lower it onto a wagon. The exterior of the crate is painted with the warning:

DANGER: LIVE ANIMAL
HANDLE WITH CARE

↑ THIS SIDE UP ↑

Amongst the dockworkers handling this shipment, you spot Kluh, one of the very men you've been seeking. He's not on the job himself, but is speaking earnestly with another man who is.

Just about the moment you notice him, whatever is in the box starts up a baleful howling. The crate shudders and shakes, and the men on the ropes pull hard to keep it from swinging out of control.

Kluh McCluh takes a nervous step back as the men fight to keep the crate steady and the boards holding it together begin to crack...

Antonin Zivelda

Though yellowed and rheumy with age, Antonin's gaze swirled and fixed upon the men on the gangplank up ahead, homing in on Kluh like an eagle's eye spotting a mouse.

"... Or, perhaps, a peek is not needed," he added quietly, his lips twisting with difficulty into a slightly satisfied smirk.

The smirk broadens into a toothy half-grin as the crate begins to creak and groan.

"How nice. We even get a diversion." Antonin's hand casually twitched his coat to one side, revealing an ironwood shortbow and a quiver brimming with arrows for the barest of moments.

"Be ready to grab him."

Jarl Spitesnarl

"This is more my speed," Jarl said, slowly curling and uncurling his right hand. The gauntleted fist tightening as began to edge in the direction of the commotion. He looks at the old man and the dwarf. "I say if things turn nasty, grab the thug and get him back towards Toki's place. I can make sure no one follows at least long enough for you to get out of sight and make my own way back."

A mean tempered small time thug for hire always lookin for an easy buck, lucky enough to still be alive, but not enough to have much money.

Kluh McCluh
Looks around and it is obvious he must have seen you but he seems to take no notice of anyone only appearing to look around out of habit. He continues to talk with the dockworker ignoring the crate at this point.